


If All Dreams Were Nightmares, Would You Ever Close Your Eyes?

by theLilyBird



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-08 16:48:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8852665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theLilyBird/pseuds/theLilyBird
Summary: Reaper comes across an old friend while on a mission and it kicks up memories he thought he'd laid to rest.





	1. Oh, How the Angel Rises

**Author's Note:**

> There's just not enough Mercykill fic and that made me sad so I wrote something. They bang eventually I swear!!

She’s been following him. Even though it would only take one shadow step to get her off his tail he finds himself unable to lose her. Or let himself lose her. They’re toeing the line of open and dangerous territory. Occasionally he can hear the gentle _clack clack_ of her shoes as she gets just a little too close before backing off.

Does she know who he is? She must. She wouldn’t separate from her squad to follow just anyone. She’s never been that stupid. Though, she is that naive.

“They called you Reaper. _The_ Reaper,” says the sweet and thickly accented voice of Angela Ziegler.

Her words halt him, making him still as stone as she closes the distance. A hand rests on his shoulder and he tenses.

“Gabriel,” she says softly, slowly like the word is old and barely remembered. Or forcibly forgotten.

He rolls his shoulders and her hand falls away. “I don’t use that name anymore. Haven’t used it in a long time. Don’t plan on going backwards now, doc,” he replies.

There’s a sharp intake of breath from her before she speaks, “I’m not calling you that. You’ll always be Gabriel to me.”

It’s these words that spark him and he turns to her. “Gabriel is dead, doc. You let him die in the rubble of the Swiss Headquarters. After of course you tried to make him into a monster. Frankenstein him like you did Genji. Well good news, doc. You succeeded. Meet your monster,” he says sharply, spreading his arms wide to present himself. He laughs and she cringes, shying away from him.

“What’s the matter, doc? Can’t look?” he questions, encroaching on her space. “Do I scare you? Am I the face of your nightmares? Because I should be after what you did to me.”

Her eyes widen in what he supposes is horror. He gives her back her space, but she shoves him so hard and suddenly he falls backward. In an instant he realizes it’s not out of anger, but in that instant it’s too late. She’s too slow and so is he. The sniper he hadn’t noticed manages to clip her before she collapses atop him.

All malice is drained from him at the sight of her blood pooling on his chest. He rolls her off him and faster than he’s ever done before he shadow steps to the sniper’s roost. He takes no time to savor the look of fear and panic on his victim’s face before riddling the poor soul with bullet holes.

He’s back to Angela’s side in an instant, pulling her into his lap. Her staff lies nearby and he grabs it before turning it onto her. Slowly, the bleeding stops and Reaper lets out a sigh of relief. He pulls her up against his chest and rises.

“Let’s get you back to Overwatch,” he says softly, all previous feelings of anger lost.

Angela wraps her arms around his neck and rests her head against his shoulder. “How did we get her, Gabriel?” she asks weakly and something tells him she’s not talking about their current location.

***

It was a long hard talk with Dr. Ziegler to convince her to join Overwatch. While Jack Morrison disagrees with Gabriel’s tactics, he can’t deny they are effective.

“I know,” Reyes says as he idly toys with his shotgun holster. They’re on their way out of the hospital with a promise from the doctor she’ll join Overwatch.

“Know what?” Jack asks, keeping in step with Gabriel.

There’s a husky laugh from Reyes, “You don’t approve of my methods. Worked though, didn’t they? Doc’s willing to give us a shot. That’s all we can really ask for.”

“You took a shine to her,” Jack says, choosing to evade the coming argument.

Reyes scoffs, “If anyone took a shine to her it was _you_.”

Jack waves the commander off, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you looking at her.”

“It is polite to make eye contact when you talk to someone, Jack. Not that you’d know polite if it hit you square in the jaw,” Gabriel says, grinning.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep making fun of me, Reyes. I’m sure it does wonders for your ego.”

***

Dr. Ziegler settles in easily and has no problems with asking when she needs something. For the most part she’s left alone with her research and visitors are limited to the injured.

“I’m starting to think you get shot just to see me,” Angela says as she digs another bullet from Gabriel’s abdomen.

He laughs but is quickly stopped with wincing. “Nah. You know me, doc. I’m just reckless,” he says with a gentle smile.

“Mm, I don’t disagree with you there,” she says as she sets about stitching him up. There’s a hint of a smile on her young face. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh no. That’s not good,” he says, grinning widely.

She frowns and sighs. “Commander, please,” she says. He nods simply and she continues her work as she speaks. “I think I could do better work in the field.”

“No,” he says perhaps too harshly.

“Let me finish,” she snaps back and he finds himself momentarily quieted. “I’ve been working on something that could potentially prevent visits like this. I call it the caduceus staff. It’s a little complex to explain, but it’s capable of healing mid combat. Nothing serious, mind you. Just enough to keep people going, but it also has the ability to boost an individual--make them fight harder, faster. It’s really something if I do say so myself.”

There’s so much pride in her eyes and happiness in her voice that Gabriel doesn’t want to tell her no. When he doesn’t speak she silently finishes her work before disappearing into a closet and returning with her hands full of some elaborate winged suit.

“I call it the valkyrie swift response suit. It allows me to fly to an injured individual to tend to their wounds. Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asks. It’s a godsend that she’s not looking at him as the pride and admiration he feels in that moment is so present on his face.

He wants to say no. He wants to tell her it’s too dangerous. He wants to say they can’t afford to lose her. _He_ can’t lose her. But he doesn’t. “Alright, doc. Under one condition: you learn to shoot.”

She frowns again, but nods.

***

The first time she flies to him he feels his heart skip a beat. At first he attributes it to his injury, but after the second and third time he realizes it’s her.

“Doc,” he starts as she hovers over him with her staff in one hand and the other keeping him from sitting up. It’s nothing serious, but the way she watches the staff heal him it’s almost as if it’s life threatening. “Doc, when you fly to me it’s--” He doesn’t know how to put it. _You give me butterflies?_

She smiles softly at that. “Side effect of the technology I use to lock on. It’s not just you if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m told it’s much like the feeling of butterflies in one’s stomach, but I wouldn’t know myself,” she explains. She stands and holds her hand out to him to help him up.

“I’m not worried. Just--”

“Concerned?” she asks with a quirk of her brow and a sly smile.

“Forget it, doc,” he says, shaking his head and jumping back into the fray.


	2. And Oh How She Falls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna start off by saying thank you guys sooooo much for the love! I wasn't really expecting anything from this but you guys are true angels and I love you all!! Second there's a total of six chapters here that I will (hopefully depends on irl things) post once per day until it's all done. So if you wanna wait until it's all done before coming back I don't blame you. Also angst warning!!

“Hush, Angela,” Reaper says, pulling her closer.

She makes a soft sound that might be a laugh. “It’s Mercy now.”

He grins, “I’m not calling you that. You’ll always be Angela to me.”

Angela goes quiet and panic rises up in his chest. He picks up his pace. He can hear them now. They’re talking about her and as he turns the corner they all turn their guns on him.

He barely recognizes her but when she speaks he knows it’s little Fareeha. “Guns down. He’s got Mercy,” she says. Everyone hesitates but only for a moment before they holster their weapons. He knows they could kill him just as quickly with their guns holstered as not. 

Gently and slowly he lays an unconscious Angela down before backing off and wraithing away. She’s in better hands now.

***

“I did what I had to! I saved his life, Gabriel!” Angela shrieks. “You told me not to let him die! What else was I supposed to do?!”

“Anything else!  _ Mierda _ , Ange,” Reyes says, pacing around Angela’s office. “You could’ve...I don’t know. Something else.”

She scoffs and crosses her arms, “ I did what I could. I did as I was told,  _ commander _ . I’ll remember next time to not be so obedient.”

“It’s not about that, Angela! It’s not about your ability to follow orders! It’s about Genji’s life!” he hollers back. 

“And thanks to me that’s something he still has. Now get out of my office, Gabriel,” she says, opening the door and gesturing for him to leave. “I have patients to tend to. Go.”

It’s long into the night and Angela is still working in her office when a soft knock startles her. She rises slowly and hesitantly opens the door to find Overwatch’s commander standing there smelling of booze. “I didn’t realize you have something against your liver,” she says, chewing her cheek in thought. He looks worn out and lost.

“Ange. I wanted to apologize. I know what I said was wrong. You did your best. You did your job. You did as you were told. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have...I’m sorry,” Reyes says with a sigh. He looks defeated.

“I’m not going to tell you it’s alright, because it’s not. I’m also not going to say I understand, because I don’t. So if you came here expecting either of those things you can go now,” she says, still holding onto some bitterness to disguise her own insecurities about what she’s done.

He grins as he rests against the doorframe. “I wasn’t expecting those things, doc. I just wanted to apologize. Nothing more. Swear,” he says, making a lazy crossing gesture over his heart as he watches her.

“Good. Now go to bed, Gabriel,” she says, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Only if you go too,” he says.

She doesn’t answer. Instead she switches off the light in her office and takes his hand before guiding him out of the infirmary. They walk in silence until they come to her room. 

“Goodnight,” she says, finally removing her hand from his. There’s a quiet spark in her that thinks he’s going to kiss her; thinks he’s going to close the distance between them and fulfill all her fantasies for all of Overwatch to hear.

He doesn’t. Instead he walks off without a word.

***

Regret swims in the supposed liquid courage he’s poured into his stomach. He should’ve kissed her. He had her right there and he didn’t kiss her. His fist beats the wall once, twice, three times before he falls back into bed. He won’t make that same mistake again.

It’s that following morning that Overwatch is handed to Jack and the bitterness that pools in him is more than he can take. It’s enough for him to lead a rebellion. It’s enough to overpower his feelings for Angela. It’s enough to burn the Swiss Headquarters to the ground.

She finds him in the rubble and the tears that pour from her eyes are enough to make him question what he’s done. “Not gonna make it, am I, doc?” he asks and the blood he coughs up is answer enough. He smiles just to try and put her at ease. 

“It’s alright, doc. It’s alright. Don’t cry, Angela,” he manages, reaching up to touch her face. Dirt smears across her cheek and she holds his hand there as she cries.

“You’ll be okay, Gabriel. You’ll be okay. I’ll fix it. I will,” she says and some part of her believes it.

He can feel himself slipping and he lets his eyes close. It’s time to let go.

***

Doctor Angela Ziegler kneels over the body of Gabriel Reyes, chewing her lower lip. Her eyes are ringed red from tears. She couldn’t save him. She couldn’t and he’s gone now. She’s tired and sad and doesn’t care right now. It’s too much.

Winston brought what’s left of the medical supplies in her office--including the experimental nanotechnology she's been working on for the better half of her time at Overwatch. She takes a vial and a syringe from the case. There's no hesitation as she injects Gabriel.

She takes his hand in hers as she waits. “C’mon, Gabriel. I know you can do this. Heroes never die, Gabriel.  _ Please _ ,” she says, choking back a sob as the tears start back up. She injects him again but he doesn’t so much as twitch. She doesn’t want to give up yet; doesn’t want to surrender him to death. But sometimes heroes just die.


	3. In Moonlight I Am Chained

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted a little later than intended but I hope a little smut will earn me some forgiveness c: Anyway, thank you so much for the love and I hope you enjoy!

It’s been almost a month since he last saw Angela; almost a month since he lost all the anger that had been festering inside him since his revival and nearly lost Angela with it. He’s stayed away long enough. All he has to do is sneak in, make sure she’s okay, and sneak out. No trouble for an assassin.

And it really isn’t a problem. He gets in without anyone noticing. He finds her room without anyone noticing. The trouble comes when he’s inside.

“I wondered when I’d see you again,” says that voice that’s kept him awake late at night. She’s by the window under the glow of the moon.

He’s frozen. She wasn’t supposed to see him. 

“Gabriel,” she says, tilting her head toward him curiously. “Come here.”

One shadow step and he’s at her side. “What’re you looking at, Angela?” he says, looking out the window. She’s got a view over most of the grounds. Including the way he got in. Had she been watching him the whole time?

“You,” she answers simply. She reaches up to grab his mask, but he catches her wrist halfway there.

“You don’t want to do that, Ange.”

She smiles softly, “Let go, Gabriel.”

Hesitantly, he does as he’s told and she removes his mask before setting it down on the nightstand. Where he expects shock and horror he finds only affection. When she reaches up to pull down his hood he doesn’t stop her.

He knows what she sees: a dead man. She sees Gabriel Reyes. Not Reaper. She sees Overwatch’s commander. Not Talon’s favorite weapon. 

“Your hair’s longer,” she says as she idly swirls a lock around her finger. “Your eyes are the same. That’s good. I always liked your eyes. Skin’s a little paler than I remember.”

He laughs and it sounds different--similar to when he was Gabriel. He's not sure he likes that. “Death tends to do that to a man,” he says.

“You’re not dead. I know what that looks like. I know--I know what you looked like,” she chokes back a sob and curls in on herself. The affection in her eyes dies as tears pool there. “I watched you drown in your own blood. I watched the light in your eyes fade to nothing. I held your hand as you left me alone.”

When he moves to try and console her she pushes him back. 

“No, no. I remember you lying in the rubble. You died and I tried so hard to bring you back. I  _ tried _ , Gabriel. But you died,” she says, clutching her chest.

He sighs, shrugging off his duster, removing his gloves, and pulling his shirt off over his head. “Ange, look at me,” he says gently, taking her hand and placing it over his heart. “I’m alive, Ange. I’m alive and I’m here. I’m with you.”

She crashes into him, engulfing him in her arms and pressing her cheek to his exposed chest. It takes him a minute to wrap his own arms around her. They stay like that for awhile. Until Angela pulls back.

“You should probably go. I can’t be the only one who saw you,” she says, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She smiles and suddenly he knows why he couldn’t lose her.

He surges forward, cupping her face in his hands and leaning down into her space so their noses touch. “Tell me no, Ange. Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll leave. I won’t come back. I’ll leave you alone. Forever.”

She tries to look away, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. “I can't tell you that, Gabriel. It'd be a lie,” she admits.

“I'm so sorry it took my death and nearly losing you to do this, Ange,” he says. Before she can question him he presses his lips to hers and in an instant she returns the kiss with a feverish intensity.

His hands move down to the hem of her night dress and he holds them there in silent askance. She bites his lip and leans in to whisper in his ear, “Fuck me, Gabriel. Like you've always wanted to. Like  _ I've  _ always wanted you to.”

Suddenly he feels such intense hunger that only her body can sate and he pulls off her night dress before trailing bites down her neck and collarbone while still being careful of her left side. His thumbs hook around her underwear that he doesn't even bother admiring before pulling them down her legs. She steps out of them and turns her attention to his pants.

“So much leather,” she says with a laugh.

He kicks off his boots and sets about removing the last of his clothes including his various belts. She's staring at him. There's a mischievous look in her eyes but before she can do anything he drives her back to the wall and drops to his knees. In one fluid motion he lifts her up and rests her thighs on his shoulders. The startled noise that escapes her is far too cute to ignore so he makes a mental note to see if he can get her to do it again.

Her hands find his hair and she bites her lip in anticipation. He draws a hot stripe up her sex and back down, relishing in the hitch of her breath and clench of her hand in his hair. With one hand he holds her steady and with the other one he makes lazy circles around her clit with his thumb.

He nips at her thigh, “Talk to me, Angela.”

“More. Please.  _ Please _ ,” she pleads softly.

“More what?” he asks, halting his ministrations.

She tightens her grip on his hair, making him look up at her. “Gabriel you will put your mouth back where it belongs and give me the best damn head of my life or I will throw you out that window sans clothes,” she threatens. 

“Hate to disobey doctor's orders,” he says with a breathy laugh. He resumes his previous motions, circling her clit with a calloused thumb as he buries his tongue in her wet heat. Her nails scrape his scalp and make him groan. She rolls her hips in time with his ministrations, letting out soft gasps and quiet moans.

He stops again to look at her incredulously. “You're holding back, Angela,” he accuses.

“Do you  _ want  _ to get caught, Gabriel?” she hisses back.

He chuckles darkly against her thigh, “Would that be so bad? Having Overwatch’s Angel crying out  _ my  _ name for everyone to hear? I'd like to see what Jack or Jesse would do if they saw you begging  _ me  _ for mercy. Oh. That turns you on doesn't it?”

“ _ Gabriel _ ,” she whines, rolling her hips insistently. Her cheeks are flushed red from more than exertion.

“C’mon, Ange. Indulge me,” he says, nipping her thigh again.

She bites her lip, but nods and again he resumes his ministrations with fervor.

Wanton moans and cries flow from her mouth in a pleasant symphony that grows louder as she gets closer until the dam breaks. She cries out, arching off the wall as he works her through her orgasm. When she comes down from her high she grabs him by the hair to make him look at her.

“Your turn,” she says breathlessly.

He eases her back to the ground on shaky legs before rising and shaking his head. “Not happening. Not tonight, Ange,”  he says as he starts to find his clothes and puts them back on. He nods toward the bandage on her left shoulder. “Not gonna risk hurting you.”

“So be gentle,” she says.

“Do you want me to be gentle?” he asks, pulling his shirt back on.

The way she chews her lip and looks away gives him his answer before she does. 

“No,” she admits.

“Exactly.”

“What if you don't come back?” she asks, sudden fear in her voice as she crosses her arms.

He resituates his belts before approaching her. “I'll be back, doc. I swear,” he promises, kissing her forehead.

“I didn't see you bring those in,” she says, grinning and nodding toward the shotguns he's currently holstering.

“I left them by the door. Some people get uncomfortable in the presence of firearms,” he says, smiling himself before putting his mask back in place.

“Gabriel,” she says softly. “Be careful.”

“You know me, doc. I've always been the reckless type,” he replies before wraithing out the door.

***

“Where have you been?” Widowmaker asks when he returns.

“None of your business,” he snaps back.

She scoffs, “Oh, merde, Reaper. Either you can tell me or I can tell the higher ups you're going out for little jaunts without permission.”

He growls and turns on her, encroaching on her space until she's boxed in. “It's none of your business, Widow. Try to remember who's more valuable here. Because we both know it isn't you,” he snarls. “So go ahead. Tell them. Let's see who they believe.”

Widowmaker doesn't so much as move or speak.

  
“That's what I thought,” he says, turning on his heel and leaving her alone.


	4. In Darkness I Am Freed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always babes thanks for the love! I appreciate each and every one of you! Apologies for being behind by a day as far as posting goes but irl stuff got in the way. I hope you enjoy! It's only uphill from here!

It’s two weeks of late night visits. More often than not the night is spent talking until Angela dozes off and Reaper leaves her to her rest. Occasionally he pleasures her until she can’t take any more. It’s those nights that he leaves her early to spend the rest of his night taking care of himself in his room at the Talon base. It’s not ideal, but he forgot how slowly the living heal.

He’s on his way out to see her when Widowmaker stops him in the hallway with a vile grin on her lips. “Mission, Reaper,” she says. “Or you want me to tell the higher ups you’d rather--”

Before he can stop himself his hand is wrapped around her throat and he’s got her pinned to the nearest wall. “What did I say, Widow? It’s none of your business. You’re going to leave it alone  _ now _ . Or I’m going to snap your wretched little neck,” he snarls. The panicked look in her eyes as she tries and fails to fight him off give him so much pleasure. He wishes he could save the image and post it on his wall.

“Mommy and daddy are fighting again,” Sombra says in singsong as she skips down the hall toward them. She places her hand on his arm. “Let her go, Reaper. We get it. You’re a badass with a big dick. We have work to do however so put it away.”

A feral growl escapes him as he releases Widowmaker. She slides down the wall, gasping for air and clutching her throat. When she lunges for him Sombra manages to hold her back. 

“So what’s the mission?” he asks and the smile on Sombra’s face worries him.

***

The first night he doesn’t show up, she files away her fear and doubt as she tells herself he must’ve gotten distracted with work. More than once he’d found her at her desk working late. The second and third night she flutters around her room in worry. By the seventh she’s convinced he’s either dead or forgotten about her.

Maybe he never really cared in the first place. Ten days into his absence she gives up waiting for him and tries to forget all they had. It’s hard and she fills her time with work. When someone asks her what’s wrong she waves them off and makes poor excuses. She even avoids field missions for fear of seeing him in battle.

She’s having another restless night, plagued by nightmares of the Reaper coming to kill them all. The feeling of her bed shifting under added weight awakens her and she grabs her pistol from under her pillow before aiming it at the intruder.

***

He hadn’t intended on being gone this long. They’d been in Russia almost two weeks and the first thing he does when he gets back to the Talon base is sneak out. He feels like he’s starving and the only person who can sate his hunger is Angela. It’s just as easy to sneak in as it’s ever been.

Where he expects her to be waiting at the window for him he finds her asleep in bed. He slowly lowers himself onto the mattress, but before he can say a word there’s a pistol in his face and an angry Swiss woman glaring at him.

“Get out,” she commands.

“Angela, what’s wrong?” he asks softly.

She scoffs and looks away long enough for him to take the pistol from her before pinning her to the bed. He holds her wrists over her head with one hand and covers her mouth with the other. She bites at the leather of his gloves, but it doesn’t deter him.

“I don’t know what you think I did, but I didn’t come here to hurt you, Ange,” he says. “I’m going to remove my hand and you’re going to tell me why you’re so upset with me.”

“You left me! Alone! I thought I’d lost you again!” she shrieks.

He covers her mouth with his hand again. “Hush, Angela. Do you want them to hear you?” he asks, resisting the urge to look back toward the door. She doesn't so much as fidget but the look in her blue eyes has softened so he releases her. 

She's quiet as she sits up, watching him carefully.

“I didn't mean to scare you, Ange. It was a mission I couldn't avoid or postpone. Don't think I didn't want to be here with you rather than out there with them,” he explains with a vague gesture toward the window. “For what little it's probably worth I missed you.”

It's quiet between them for awhile before an impish grin spreads across Angela's face. “I know how you can make it up to me, Gabriel,” she says sweetly, moving toward him.

“Are you really going to go that easy on me? You seemed pretty upset five minutes ago,” he says. There's a hint of humor in his voice that's distorted by the mask. “I'd rather take a real punishment over risking hurting you, Ange. No.”

She gestures toward her left shoulder.  It's almost like she never got shot in the first place; her skin is as clean and milky as it's always been with no signs of scarring. “I will admit I cheated and used the nanobots. It's still sore, but healed enough you won't hurt me.”

“You're sure you want this, Angela?” he asks, trying to keep his attention on her eyes.

She nods, “Like I've never wanted anything else.”

The better part of him wants to make her reconsider, but she's feeding the hunger that's been building inside him for weeks and he doesn't care what the better part of him wants. He's careful about removing his mask, placing it on the nightstand gently. Everything else however can't come off fast enough, but she helps him and together they make quick work of his many leather articles of clothing.

She's staring at him again. Like she did the first night. He shifts uncomfortably under her gaze before she snaps out of it and pulls him down to the bed. 

Her hands are on him in an instant and before he can stop her she's eliciting a litany of pleasurable noises from him. “Ange,” he says breathlessly. It's been so long since anyone has touched him like this.

“Hmm?”

That better part of him wants to make this more about her than him, but he's not interested in the better part of him tonight and something tells him neither is she. He rises to his knees and in response she lowers herself. Her tongue drags up and then down his weeping length before sealing her hot mouth around him. The bobbing of her head starts slow and teasing.

Her eyes find his and the hungry look in them matches his own as her pace increases. 

His mind is growing foggy and he suddenly doesn't know what to do with his hands. She does however; grabbing one and guiding it to the back of her head where he tangles his fingers in the golden locks. He clenches his fist, dragging his nails along her scalp as he does so and eliciting a moan from Angela that resonates up his spine. He's dizzy with pleasure, but he manages to rein himself in.

“Ange,” he sputters. “Angela.”

She removes her mouth with a wet sound that does funny things to his insides. “What, Gabriel?” she asks, but she already knows what he wants.

“On your knees,” he commands, finding that voice he used with recruits back in the beginnings of Overwatch. 

Angela grins and does as she's told, presenting her ass to him like a gift. She's already so slick. He knows what she tastes like--sweet and tart like the candies she'd keep in her office--but he resists the urge to lick her clean. He lines himself up with her entrance and thrusts into her with a long groan. The pace he sets has wanton moans and a litany of  _ yes _ ,  _ please,  _ and  _ more  _ pouring from her lips. 

Occasionally she gasps his name so quietly he almost misses it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registers why she's careful with it. He can't imagine what the others would think if they heard her screaming the name of a dead man late in the night. Still, he wants her to let go and she can't do that if she's worried about people hearing her.

“Ange,” he says, slowing his pace enough to give her a moment to breathe. All he gets in response is a whimper and a roll of her hips.

He stops altogether, separating them which earns him more angry Swiss woman glaring at him, but before she can say anything he flips her onto her back. Her eyes speak for her as they light up with curiosity and confusion. He covers her body with his own, boxing her in with his mouth to her ear.

“I'm going to fuck you now and you're going to be a good girl about it by letting go. Do you understand?” he says in that commander voice from earlier.

She opens her mouth to say something but no words come out. 

“You're not in control, doc. I am,” he growls. 

Something between a whimper and a moan falls from her lips as she nods furiously. 

“Good girl,” he says, in a tone more gentle than before.

He takes a moment to draw himself back to reality and out of the perverse fog of his mind. He trails a hand down her side till he reaches the juncture of her thighs. With his other hand he pins her wrists above her head.

A sly smile spreads across his face as he slips his fingers into her wet heat; thumb finding the sweet little nub that has her arching into his touch. Hoarse cries of  _ yes, more,  _ and  _ Gabriel  _ pour from her lips as she struggles against his tightening grip. A beautiful flush has spread from her face to her chest as she inches ever closer to her orgasm.

“Relax, Ange. It's just you and me,” he says sweetly, trailing kisses down her neck to her collarbone. 

“ _ Want you, _ ” she gasps, “ _ inside me. Now. _ ”

A dark chuckle at her throat makes her shiver. “I should make you beg,” he says hoarsely, a little on edge at a sight and sound of her. “Would you beg for me, Angela? Beg for my cock?”

She whimpers and nods, “ _ Please. _ ”

“Beg,” he commands.

She arches, presenting herself to him as she struggles against his hold. “Please.  _ Please fuck me _ ,” she pleads. “ _ I need you. Please. Fuck me. _ ”

“Anything for you, Ange,” he says, removing his fingers from her core and bringing them to her lips. She doesn't need to be told to lick them clean and does so without complaint. He releases her wrists in favor of holding her hips as he slides his cock through her folds for one last tease before burying himself deep in her heat.

His eyes are dark on her as she writhes and cries out his name with each punishing thrust. Her nails make bright streaks down his back as she claws at him with fervor. He showers her in gentle praise as he forces himself to maintain some semblance of control.

It's all lost when she peaks, arching and crying out for him with words lost to her own moans. He follows her over the edge with stuttered thrusts and a drawn out groan.

Their breathing is ragged as he rolls them so she lies atop him. Gently he moves sweat soaked hair from her forehead to better expose her face.

“Hello, beautiful,” he says.

She hums with pleasure and happiness. 

“Hello,” she parrots. Her movements are measured as she moves some of his own hair from his face. She trails butterfly kisses down his jaw to the column of his neck where she rakes her teeth. 

A laugh that sounds far too joyful for his liking escapes him and he pulls her back by her hair. “None of that,” he chides. “You're going to rest now.”

  
She frowns but doesn't fight him on it.


	5. Reality Burns Me Raw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to say thanks again and I love you guys so very much! I'm actually looking to write more Mercykill as I have a few half baked ideas that I hope I will eventually realize and share with you babes c:

He thought she dozed off, but when she shifts in his arms to face him he knows he’s not that lucky.

“Gabriel,” she says lazily. “You really don’t sleep, do you?”

“The dead don’t sleep, Ange,” he reminds her.

She frowns. “You’re not dead, Gabriel.”

He doesn’t want to upset her. He’s been down this road with her before and it leads nowhere pretty, but he doesn’t know how to change the subject without being obvious. Somehow he’s just lucky enough she drops it.

“I miss working with you,” she says. Her eyes fall to his bare chest and she traces scars with her finger. “You should come back to Overwatch.”

“No,” he says plain and firm.   
  


She doesn’t look disappointed; more like she knew the storm was coming and she remembered to board her windows. “Okay,” she says simply.

It doesn’t come up again.

***

He made a mistake. That much is clear. Her words ring loud and clear in his ears.

_ We trusted you!  _ **_I_ ** _ trusted you! You betrayed us! You betrayed  _ **_me_ ** _!  _

It’s growing increasingly difficult to make his way down this hallway, but even as blood drips from his wounds onto the polished floor he manages to keep himself upright and walking. It’s not much farther. He knows that, but he’s suddenly worried he’s going to be caught. He’s never been caught before. Not here. He’s safe here. With  _ her _ .

Reaper doesn’t bother knocking and instead forces the door open.

On the sofa sits Angela Ziegler, reading and drinking from a mug with the words ‘World’s Best Mom’ written in bold black letters. The instant she sees him the mug falls from her hands and crashes to the floor. She’s at his side so fast he’s a little dizzy.

“Gabriel,” she says in a hushed voice. “Gabriel what happened to you?”

He chokes a laugh and crumbles, falling to his knees before her. “An old friend, Ange. Don’t worry about it. You’re safe if that’s what you’re worried about. She wouldn’t follow me here. She’s not that stupid, but she was that curious,” he says.

“I’m not--Gabriel stay with me.  _ Gabriel? _ ” her voice is sharp in fear and confusion. His name on her lips is the last thing he hears before he blacks out.

***

He’s dizzy and can just barely feel someone pulling bullets from his abdomen. “Ange?” he croaks, trying to look for her. It’s so bright and cold. Where is he?

“Hush, Gabriel,” she chides and he relaxes at the sound of her voice. She sounds angry. “I can’t believe you’re not dead.”

He grins a little lopsidedly. “I am dead, Ange. Thought we established that already,” he reminds her.

There’s a growl from the doc, but she doesn’t say another word.

Reaper lets her work in quiet as he watches her pull bullets from him with great care and precision. Occasionally she makes a disapproving noise or shakes her head to herself. When she’s done she turns to him with her hands on her hips and eyes sharp on him.

“What happened, Gabriel?” she asks, tone emotionless and firm.

He shifts into a sitting position on the table and realizes he’s in the infirmary. “Did you drag me here yourself?” he asks.

“My question first,” she snaps.

“Sombra--something of a pet project I guess--followed me here. She felt my visits are a betrayal to our team and Talon. So she took matters into her own hands and unloaded her gun into me. She must’ve thought it’d do me in, but she’s got no idea what you did to me,” he says with a bitter laugh and a sly smile. He eyes the stitches scattered across his chest and stomach. “You really didn’t need to do that. Mortal’s need stitches. I’m the fuckin’ Reaper.”

Angela’s eyes narrow and she reaches out to smack him upside the head before returning her hand to her hip. “You’re an idiot is what you are,” she says flatly, but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips. “I'm glad you're okay.”

“And I'm glad to be okay. Thanks to you of course,” he says, reaching out to cup her face in his hand.

She leans into the touch, covering his hand with hers. “Where will you go?” she asks softly.

He thought about that on the way to her room. He's got few options and there's only one he actually likes. “Let's run away,” he says. “Screw Talon and screw Overwatch. It'll just be us. We'll be happy.”

“I am happy, Gabriel,” she says gently, taking his hand from her face and holding it between two of her own. “I'm not leaving Overwatch. It's my home now. You gave it to me all those years ago and I'm not going to let it go again.”

He deflates and pulls his hand away. The comforting smile on her face feels like a punch to the gut; feels like pity. 

“You could come home, Gabriel,” she says softly.

He growls to himself and barely feels bad when she takes a tentative step back. “Angela this isn't my home,” he snarls, making a vague gesture. “Overwatch hasn't been my home in a very long time. The hell am I saying? Overwatch was Gabriel's home. It was never mine.”

Reaper hops off the table, realizing he's only half dressed and shuffling around the infirmary looking for the rest of his clothes. 

“And what is your home,  _ Reaper _ ?” she asks, tone sad without turning to look at him. She's never called him that before.

“Angela,” he tries.

“No. Tell me. If Overwatch isn't your home, what is? Tell me, Reaper. What keeps you from killing me and everyone else here if Overwatch was never your home? Tell me right now,” she snaps, turning to face him with fire in her eyes. There's tears forming in them.

He sighs, defeated. “You're my home, Ange. I'm not Gabriel and I could never expect you to love me like you loved him, but he is a part of me--a part I'm tired of fighting,” he says, shrugging into his leather duster. The shirt is a goner but the duster has been through worse. “I love you.”

“Gabriel,” she says gently. Her eyes are pleading and wet with tears. “Come home to me. Please. Come home.”

He shifts forward, cupping her face in his hands and wiping away her tears with his thumb. “Alright, Ange. Alright,” he says.


	6. But Your Touch Is of Silk and Satin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! I hope you guys enjoyed! As always your comments make my day! <3

Everyone is uncomfortable with Reaper. They'd opted to leave out the dead man bit and instead let Overwatch believe he's just a Talon agent turned Overwatch. It’s tough in the beginning as Angela has to adjust to calling him Reaper. 

Reaper himself on the other hand has very little trouble adjusting. He's allowed to do his own thing and on missions it's the same with limited restrictions. 

Angela is busy doing her valkyrie thing while he cleans up stragglers.  He doesn't even realize he's been shot until she flies to him and makes his stomach do backflips.

“Be more careful,” she chides, turning the beam on him as she shakes her head to herself.

He brushes a stray hair out of her face and she smiles softly at him.

“What?” she questions. She's learned a read him through the mask. 

Reaper shakes his head, “Nothing.”

“Uh huh,” she agrees. “Well run along then. You've got people to shoot.”

It's a fluid motion as he removes his mask to press his lips to hers in a gentle peck before returning the mask to its place. “Mercy,” he says with a nod. 

“Reaper,” she responds with the same gesture.

***

He's cornered by Fareeha one evening in the dining hall. He'd intended on making something for him and Ange who's been working nonstop as of late.

  
“Hurt her and I will break you,” she says, getting in his face. Even through the mask her eyes are intense and burning. She shifts back, relaxing slightly and with a sly smile she says, “It's good to have you back, Gabriel.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to prompt me on [my tumblr](http://thelilybird.tumblr.com/)!


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